The BOLAG collaboration is not a simple merger of two roles — photographer and image composer. It is rather a space of shared tension, a field where two distinct artistic personalities do not so much complement each other as intersect, collide, and mutually challenge their ways of seeing.

 

What binds them is not a common aesthetic, but intuition — raw, unprocessed, an unspoken agreement that the image may emerge from something that cannot be named. Intuition here is not a tool, but a language — separate, parallel to the image, suspended between the two.

 

Bolek Ryziński’s photographs carry a gesture of attentiveness — they are records of reality, yet they resist becoming documents. Their material is open, porous, ready for transformation. These are images that remain silent, yet something waits within them — an echo, a shadow, a pulse. They carry a deep, unsentimental admiration for nature: as force, as motion, as something beyond the human, yet deeply entangled with the interior landscape of the viewer.

 

Olga Szulc disturbs this stillness. The two-axis mirroring she applies is an act of splitting and overwriting. It is not merely a formal technique, but a way of thinking: a gaze that does not trust the single image. In its place emerges a composition-trap, a composition-riddle. Symmetry offers no comfort — on the contrary, it reveals what is usually hidden: fractures, phantoms, misdirections.

 

Out of this process arises a third voice — belonging fully to neither artist. Something foreign that emerges from their encounter. Something that looks back at us from within the image.

 

BOLAG is not a duet, but a constellation. A dialogue that does not lead to agreement, but to tension. It is an attempt to hold the image in a state of vibration — between form and its collapse, between light and shadow, between the gaze and the answer that never arrives. It is also a homage to the natural world — not as background, but as an equal participant in this unfolding — a voice that does not speak but resonates.